Elias woke to the sound of glass shattering.

The noise jolted him upright, his heart slamming against his ribs as his mind struggled to shake off the haze of sleep. He froze, listening. The apartment was dark, eerily still, but he could hear faint shuffling from the direction of the living room—slow, deliberate movements that didn’t belong.

Someone was in his apartment.

His pulse quickened, his breaths shallow and uneven as he glanced at the briefcase on the floor beside his bed. The dim glow of the streetlamp outside reflected faintly off its surface, and for a moment, he considered grabbing it and running. But then he heard another sound—a low, muffled voice—and his blood turned to ice.

More than one.

His legs felt like lead as he swung them over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cold floor. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, his hands trembling so violently he nearly dropped it. Before he could unlock the screen, a heavy thud echoed from the living room, followed by the creak of the floorboards as the intruders moved closer.

Six men. Guns. Don’t move.

The thought was loud and intrusive, flashing through his mind like a warning bell. He didn’t know how he knew there were six of them—he hadn’t seen them yet—but he could feel it. The weight of their presence pressed against him like an unseen force, suffocating and inescapable.

Before he could think of a plan, his bedroom door burst open.

The force of it slammed the door against the wall, and Elias flinched, his back hitting the headboard as the first figure stepped inside. They were dressed in black from head to toe, their faces obscured by masks, their bodies bristling with tactical gear. A rifle was slung across the leader’s chest, its barrel gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Elias didn’t even have time to react before the man lunged, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him out of bed with brutal efficiency. The phone slipped from his hands, clattering uselessly to the floor.

“Where is it?” the man demanded, his voice low and sharp, like the edge of a blade.

Elias gasped, his hands clawing at the grip on his shirt as he was slammed against the wall. His vision swam, the edges blurring as pain shot through his back. “W-what—what are you talking about?”

“The briefcase,” the man snarled, his grip tightening. “Where is it?”

“I—I don’t—”

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A second man stepped into the room, his gun raised as he scanned the space. His gaze landed on the briefcase, and he gestured to it with a nod. “There.”

The leader released Elias, and he crumpled to the floor, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. His head throbbed, and panic clawed at his chest as he watched the second man move toward the case.

“No!” Elias shouted, his voice cracking as he lunged forward. He grabbed the man’s arm, but another intruder was on him in an instant, kicking him squarely in the ribs. The impact sent him sprawling onto the floor, his body screaming in protest as he curled in on himself.

“Stay down,” the third man growled, his boot pressing against Elias’s side to keep him there.

Through the haze of pain, Elias could see the second man reaching for the briefcase. His fingers brushed the handle, but before he could lift it, a sharp, high-pitched sound split the air—a faint, almost imperceptible hum that made the walls vibrate.

The man froze.

“What is that?” he muttered, his voice tinged with unease.

The hum grew louder, filling the room with an oppressive, resonant vibration. The air seemed to thicken, the shadows on the walls stretching and twisting as if alive. The briefcase began to glow faintly, a soft, unnatural light seeping through its seams.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence wavering for the first time.

“Take it and let’s go,” the leader snapped, his voice harsh but laced with something else—fear.

The second man grabbed the briefcase, yanking it off the floor. The moment his hand closed around the handle, the glow intensified, and a deep, guttural sound erupted from the case, like a distant roar echoing through the room.

The man screamed, dropping the case as if it had burned him. He stumbled back, clutching his hand, his gloved fingers trembling violently.

“What the hell—” another intruder started, but he didn’t finish.

The light from the briefcase flared, blindingly bright, and the hum escalated into a deafening pitch that made Elias’s ears ring. He pressed his hands against his head, curling tighter as the intruders shouted in confusion.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the light and sound vanished.

The room plunged into silence, broken only by the ragged breaths of the men as they stood frozen, staring at the briefcase. It lay untouched on the floor, its surface dark and inert, as if nothing had happened.

“Grab it,” the leader ordered, his voice steadier than before. “We don’t have time for this.”

But none of the men moved.

The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with fear and uncertainty. Elias stayed where he was, his body aching, his heart pounding as he watched the intruders hesitate.

And then, from somewhere beyond the apartment, there was another sound—a faint, deliberate knock at the door.

The men stiffened, their heads snapping toward the sound. Elias’s breath hitched, his body tensing as dread settled over him like a suffocating weight. Whoever was at the door wasn’t here to help.

The leader cursed under his breath, signaling to the others to move. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“But—” one of them started, gesturing to the briefcase.

“Leave it!” the leader barked, already backing toward the shattered window.

One by one, the intruders retreated, their movements quick and precise. Within seconds, they were gone, disappearing into the night as silently as they’d arrived.

Elias lay motionless on the floor, his body trembling as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. The apartment was silent again, but the oppressive weight in the air hadn’t lifted. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the briefcase. It sat there, untouched, its surface dull and unassuming once more.

He didn’t move. Didn’t dare to.

The knock came again, louder this time, and his blood ran cold.

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